


i want the throne

by Elrickeyblade



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- Several Targaryens Live, Dark!Dany, Dark!Jon, Dark!Jon x Dark!Dany, Enemies to Lovers, Foe Yay, Gen, Grand Council 3.0, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics Galore, Rhaegar Lives, Rhaegar is Exiled, heir au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 02:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18864277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elrickeyblade/pseuds/Elrickeyblade
Summary: “You think I don't know of what it is to be denied the best, refused your own potential, merely because of the circumstances of your birth?" This time as they twirled, their faces were properly directed towards the opposite sides of the room. "You had the great fortune of being born a second son. I had the great fortune of being born without a cock. It's not so similar, but in some ways it's not so different either."Jon Sand more than expected competition from his Targaryen relatives when he sailed from Pentos for a slim chance at the throne.  He did not expect his deadliest competition to be a minor, half-forgotten princess-- Daenerys Targaryen, his own aunt.





	i want the throne

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title for this story was inspired by Killmonger's demand in Black Panther. I hope you guys enjoy. This was posted on impulse, so watch out.

The garden was in full bloom today. Even from her perch on the stone bench she could discern the scent of roses from lilies from jasmine from apple blossoms.

“Princess Daenerys,” Septa Elys scolded. “How are you to keep your stitches neat if your attention wanders so?”

She flitted her eyes back to her embroidery. “My apologies. The day is too beautiful for me to ignore.”

“You are right about that, dear,” the septa conceded, her voice softening. “The Seven smile upon us today.”

Daenerys liked the sound of that. She offered the Seven a smile of her own as she pulled at the gold thread between her fingers. “Perhaps it is a sign that good news will arrive with our visitors today.”

She could sense Septa Elys’ discontent. It was no secret that the thought of her nephew and any of his retinue darkening the gates of the Red Keep was near-revolting to the holy woman.

“The Seven will decide that for themselves, Your Highness.” The septa’s face was pinched and strained. “Though I can hardly see what good would come with the arrival of one born in such shame and deceit. What your father was possibly thinking, only the gods can say…”

Septa Elys suddenly renewed her efforts with the needle. “Best not dawdle over such troublesome thoughts, Princess Daenerys,” she rushed, looking for all the world flustered by her previous words. “Especially on such a nice day.”

Daenerys stilled her tongue. Most of King’s Landing shared the good septa’s opinion, and with reason. Even she herself could not adequately discern a good reason for her father’s petition to see his grandson at court. Nor why the king himself granted the request.

It was apparent that even across the Narrow Sea, her nephew had powerful friends in King’s Landing. But not even her best efforts were able to find them all, though she had her guesses.

“Is that a dragon, Your Highness?” the septa asked, looking at her embroidery. “I thought you were going to stitch lilies this time. They would be far more beautiful on silk of that color.”

Daenerys looked over the handkerchief in her hands. The cloth was a deep purple that highlighted the lighter shade of her own eyes. Where there could have been golden petals were instead a pair of wings that swept across the material, with the head slowly beginning to curl around the middle. She had just finished the neck, and was making progress on the jaw and teeth.

“Should it be a contest of beauty,” she replied, resuming her work with the golden thread, “I find I much prefer dragons.”

* * *

 

The way before him lay as unforgiving as the sands and halls of Dorne.

Sailing the Narrow Sea to Westeros wasn’t as harrowing as he’d expected. And he’d found the castle of Highgarden to have more bloom than thorns. The inns along the Rose Road were messy and chaotic, but not intolerable.

Yet these yards of horsetrot through the streets to the Red Keep were enough to make his stomach sink to his feet.

The smallfolk of the city were more than curious about his arrival-- and expectant, too, if the large crowds and loud mutterings were any indication. Several looked up at him with interest, others with clear disapproval. More than one septon they’d passed had a look of disgust plastered on his face.

It was nothing he didn’t expect. Even his father had warned him about the attitude of King’s Landing that he would face should he accept the king’s command.

_“They will never love you, my son,”_ he had said, voice sadder than usual.

As if that mattered.

“Marselen,” he queried of his friend. “How much are you willing to bet that you’re the main attraction, as opposed to the Dragon Bastard?”

Marselen narrowed his eyes. “Not even two coppers.”

He snorted and turned his attention back to the road. More children were appearing, and he had to be careful that none of them were dashing under their horses’ legs on a foolhardy dare or such. It was one thing to be a bastard prince. It was another thing altogether to be a child-murdering one.

The gates of the Red Keep now loomed larger before them. Not even five men standing atop each others’ shoulders could reach the top of its walls. Where dragons burned, they had others build.

The guards at the gate called them to a halt. “Who asks for entrance to the keep?” one demanded.

He gave his best congenial smile to dull the sting of his next words. “Jon, son of Rhaegar of House Targaryen, here at the invitation and command of the King.”


End file.
